A Christmas Carol - Enterprise Style
by Artisticmom2
Summary: A retelling of Charles Dicken's famous Christmas classic A Christmas Carol but cast with our dashing characters from Enterprise.
1. Chapter 1

Many thanks to my fabulous beta Tish.

Many thanks to Charles Dickens. Your simple story, in all it's incarnations, has inspired so many over the years.

I don't own anything and am making no profit.

* * *

Admiral Archer entered the gleaming building, striding along corridors full of beautiful paintings of space and many of its wonders. His back was straight, his gaze not wavering from his chosen path, his footsteps quieted by the plush red carpeting. Ensigns scurried to get out of his way as he stalked past, heading to his office. He noticed none of them, nor cared if he upset their work. In his mind, nothing in Starfleet was as important as his own field – exploration.

He entered his suite of offices and the cool air washed over him. His offices were a stark contrast to those of the rest of the building. While the structure itself was modern in design, all glass and steel, Starfleet made an effort to make the offices within warm and welcoming. Once Jonathon had made admiral and had been given this assignment, he had put his own stamp upon this division. The offices in the Exploration branch were cold, stark, bleak, and pitiless. There was nothing here to distract his corps of ensigns from their appointed tasks.

As he strode past the open cubicles he could see his ensigns all bent over their star charts or reports, working diligently on finding new space for Starfleet to explore, more space in which to find new species, make treaties with them, and ensure the safety of Earth. The mission into the Expanse and then the Romulan War that followed had taught Archer a valuable lesson. The only good alien race was an alien race that entered into a treaty of non-aggression with them. After all, what was more important than that?

He allowed himself a small, barely imperceptible smile – it was good to be the boss, and it was good to have underlings who knew their place in the world, his world. He walked past his personal secretary and into his personal office, even colder and starker than that of his underlings.

Sitting down at his desk, he automatically glanced into the corner and regarded the empty dog bed lying there. He pursed his lips, clenching his jaw slightly but showed no other reaction. He was broken out of his reverie by his lieutenant entering the office. He turned his steely gaze upon him and the other man paled visibly.

"Sir? If I may?" the lieutenant started.

Admiral Archer continued to stare in silence at the small, almost shrunken man before him. His eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch, giving his lieutenant the consent he was seeking.

The man straightened up and started again. "Sir, the ensigns and I would like to take an hour today for a small Christmas party. With your permission, sir, we'd start at 1530."

Admiral Archer continued to stare at the lieutenant before him. The man swallowed nervously. Finally Archer spoke. "Fine, but I'll expect you all in early tomorrow morning, by 0630, to make up the time."

The man swallowed again, starting to perspire in the cold office. "But sir, tomorrow is Christmas, I thought Starfleet authorized leave..." he trailed off at seeing the expression on his superior's face.

"Christmas is a poor excuse for closing Starfleet for a day. Space is infinite. We'll never explore it all by taking breaks for silly holidays that no one wants any longer," Archer growled, his voice low. He spun his chair and regarded the old fashioned wall map of space that was framed and hung on the side wall of his office. It was his only concession to ornament or decoration. But it showed space as people once thought of it, as something finite, something conquerable. He contemplated the map a moment longer and then abruptly swung back to fix the lieutenant with a fierce glare.

"I'll expect you all here early the day after. No excuses. Is that clear?" he asked, and without waiting for an answer he continued, "Unless you have anything else for me Lt. Cratchett, you're dismissed." With that Admiral Archer pushed the lieutenant from his mind and went back to the reports before him on the desk. There were too many parsecs of space and never enough time to explore them all, but he would continue to try.

The morning had barely begun when Admiral Archer was disturbed yet again. Two gentlemen in civilian clothes walked into the office, stopping by Lieutenant Cratchett's desk to ask for the Admiral. When Lt. Cratchett showed them into his office Admiral Archer covertly sized them up while finishing up a memo he was working on. They were dressed well in civilian clothing and had nothing of military bearing about them. They had never been in Starfleet. One of them carried a padd with a swipe bar. Admiral Archer inwardly sighed. He realized who these two must be with. Hearing one of them clear their throats Archer finished his note and then looked up.

"Yes?"

The taller man spoke first. "Good morning Admiral Archer, we are with Starfleet Relief and we would like to ask you for a donation for the foundation to help out those within Starfleet in need." The other man smiled hopefully at him.

Archer looked from one to the other and said, "Has Starfleet stopped granting Housing and Living Allowances?"

The shorter man with the padd spoke, "No sir –"

Archer cut him off. "Has Starfleet Medical stopped caring for those within Starfleet and their dependents?"

Again the shorter man answered, "No sir, but-"

"Has Starfleet stopped giving retirement and bereavement pay?"

"Well no, but surely-"

"Then we have nothing to discuss gentlemen. Since Starfleet continues to look after their own in a myriad of ways, I see no reason to give money to a civilian organization designed to mollycoddle people who should be tough enough to endure the rigors of space." Admiral Archer looked back to his desk and picked up the next document needing his attention, effectively dismissing the two men. He could tell they were unsure of what to do as they continued to stand there, perhaps hoping that he would change his mind and give them the donation they sought.

Admiral Archer could hear a murmur of chatter coming towards his office, inwardly sighing yet again, and looked up. He could see ensigns' heads popping up from their cubicles, smiles on their faces as they greeted the visitor walking towards his office. Admiral Archer saw Lieutenant Cratchett rise and greet the man, this one also dressed in civilian garb, and he wondered briefly how long it had been since the other man had retired. He sniffed, he hadn't thought much of such a good explorer leaving the ranks of Starfleet to stay Earth-bound and have a family.

Lieutenant Cratchett ushered the grinning visitor into the office. "Sir, its Mr. Mayweather to see you, sir."

"I can see who it is, now get back to work," Archer snarled, already on the defensive from the first two visitors who still stood there. He disliked these annual visits from his old helmsman. They reminded him of a time best forgotten.

"Merry Christmas, Captain!" said a beaming Travis Mayweather. "Ah, Starfleet Relief! Are you two here asking for holiday donations?" he asked the two gentlemen.

The two smiled at the warm greeting and the taller one replied, "Yes sir! We are! Would you like to donate to those in need?" The shorter one held out his padd hopefully.

"Yes, I would," said Travis as he fished out his credit card, swiped it through the reader on the side of the padd and then filled out and signed the receipt on the screen.

"Thank you sir," said the first and they nodded themselves out of the office.

Archer watched them leave, his mouth twisted, and then turned to his former helmsman. "What do you want?" he asked abruptly. "I'm busy."

"I wanted to invite you to my annual Christmas party. All the old gang will be there," Travis said as he placed a small silver picture frame, its corner adorned with a beautiful bow, on the desk covered only in work.

"It's Admiral to you, and no, thank you. Every year you invite me to your gathering and every year I refuse. When are you going to give it a rest? I've got more important things to do," he gestured to his covered desk, completely disregarding the small gift.

"Aww, come on sir. You can't live like this. This isn't living. Relax and have fun once in a while. It didn't kill you back in the days you were Captain Archer. What's so different now that you're Admiral Archer?"

Archer's eyes flicked to the photo now sitting on his desk, showing the senior bridge crew of the Enterprise, all of them smiling and happy and alive. One of them he was divided from forever, another of them was dead. Who would be next? He came back to the present, annoyed that he had let his train of thought wander for even that moment.

"What's different is that I have more responsibility, something you've forgotten all about, being retired. You keep Christmas in your way and I'll keep it in mine," he said disdainfully with another look at Travis's sunny smile and civilian clothing. "Now get lost before I have you tossed out of the building. You're not supposed to be in here anyhow." With that Archer went back to reading the top report on a tall stack waiting on his desk.

Travis wilted, pity in his eyes, and then forced a smile back on his face. "You're always welcome, any time; we'd both love to see you." He paused, waiting for a reaction from the older man. Receiving none, he spoke again, softly this time, "Merry Christmas, Captain." And with that, he turned and left the office, wishing the lieutenant a Merry Christmas on his way past the desk.


	2. Chapter 2

The day was finished. Actually the day ended hours earlier, and although Archer had been good to his word and allowed a small, short Christmas party in the office, he had worked for several more hours. In the military when the boss stays to work, everyone stays and works so consequently despite the late hour the office was still busy. Archer flipped the last report closed, stood up from his desk and collected his things. Leaving his office he stopped at his lieutenant's desk.

"Lt. Cratchett, see to the closing up and make sure the word is passed that everyone is to be here by 0600 on 26 December," he said tersely.

The weary lieutenant stood at attention and replied "Yes sir, good night sir, Merry Christmas sir," and waited for the dismissing nod from his superior, inwardly cursing himself for the slip of adding 'Merry Christmas'. After working for the admiral for so many years he knew his CO did NOT like this holiday.

Archer harrumphed at his secretary, paused for a good long moment keeping his tired lieutenant at attention longer then needed in silent rebuke. Finally Archer nodded and left the department, his long legs striding down the hall, his feet muted now back on the plush carpeting. He dismissed the office from his mind momentarily knowing his crew would do as ordered and see to everything before leaving the office for the night. Hearing the cleaning crew leaving the floor and starting on the one above him, he realized it was later then he thought. Turning a corner in the almost deserted building he thought he heard something behind him, a subtle footfall muffled on the carpeting. Turning sharply, he saw nothing but empty hallway. Looking down he saw no footprints on the plush vacuumed carpeting save his own. Shaking his head, he continued briskly on his way.

As Archer stomped out of the building and into the warm night air of San Francisco he thought of the invitation to Travis's annual Christmas party. Every year Travis invited him, and every year he said no. He sincerely doubted that any of those attending the party actually wanted to see him, and he had no desire to see anyone from that part of his life. Not since Trip had died, not since – he abruptly stopped that train of thought and concentrated on the walk home.

Jonathon Archer walked to and from work every day, rain or shine. Fortunately his apartment was not far from Starfleet headquarters and the walk helped him to focus on the needs of the day. As he approached the apartment complex he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He paused, mid-step, his eyes trying to pierce the gloom and mists of the shadows, instantly on the defensive again. There was nothing. His eyes fell on a restaurant, closed due to the very late hour. The 602 Club.

His mind filled with the memories of the many times he drank there, drowning his sorrows and toasting his successes, usually with Trip or A.G. But they were both dead now. Trip had been killed by hostile aliens, A.G. in a climbing accident. Coming out of his reverie, his pace increased, his eyes constantly scanning his surroundings, his body automatically on the defense.

Upon gaining entrance to the building and standing outside his own door Archer began to relax as he punched in the access code and waited for the computer voice to grant him admission. All computers talked now and he found it a damn nuisance. What was wrong with silent computers like the ones he used back on _Enterprise_? He paused, waiting on the gentle feminine voice of the central computer.

"Access granted Jonnie," sang out an unexpected voice, the door whooshing open before him.

Archer jumped back from the door in alarm. That voice was not that of the central computer. If Archer knew it couldn't be, he would have sworn he had heard A.G.

But A.G. Robinson was dead.  
Very dead.  
For many years.

He had to be hallucinating. Perhaps it was all the recent late nights catching up with him. Archer stood there and shook his head, trying to clear it, like a dog shaking off water. He eased towards the door, wishing he had a phase pistol on him and quickly poked his head through the open doorway. Seeing nothing, he entered his apartment quickly and closed the door behind him, making sure it was locked. He then ensured that there were no intruders in his apartment. Only then did he relax.

Later, after a quick shower and a stiff drink to get over his earlier scare he spent the rest of the evening in front of his computer, continuing to go over reports and charts. He sat in his pajama bottoms, bare chested, still well-muscled and in shape despite his age. The only change in his physique was his grey hair and wrinkles, although the wrinkles were more frown lines then age. He rarely smiled any longer, and when he did, his smile held no warmth.

He ate absently from a plate off to the side, a sad looking resequenced bit of catfish that the housekeeper had left for him. Trip wouldn't have fed such a poor piece of catfish to a dog, let alone a human, but Archer ate it mechanically. He never ate out any longer, he always ate alone, with his work. His housekeeper was the only being he dealt with outside of the office. He didn't even know his own neighbors, nor cared to.

The doorbell chimed once, bringing Archer out of his report. He stared at the door for a moment and then the chime sounded again, and again, continuing on, bringing him out of his chair in an explosion of anger.

"Damn kids," he growled as he rushed to the door and punched the button to open it. He was greeted by an empty hallway. No one was there. There was also a lack of noise, no running footsteps. His eyes widened briefly, remembering his earlier upset. Sighing in frustration he closed the door and turned back to his computer. He stopped, completely still. Leaning against the desk with a drink in his hand was none other than his old friend A.G. Robinson.

"Hey there, Jonnie," said A.G.

Jon continued to stare at the vision before him. He was able to discern that the person in front of him was not actually there, Jon could see through him. Was he a hologram or some sort of a projection?

"No, I'm not a hologram. And before you go looking for a projector I am, in fact, an honest to goodness ghost."

"There's no such thing," snapped Jonathon, looking around for the projector he knew must be there. This had to be a cruel prank of some sort. But who would do something like this? Who could have gotten in past security?

"Is to, and you need to listen up, I don't have much time here. I'm out on good behavior, so knock it off and listen up," replied A.G. as he stood up, set his drink down on the desk, and came towards Jonathon. The drink disappeared as soon as the apparition's fingers left the glass.

"What? Out of where?" Jonathon replied absently, still looking for a source of what he was sure a projection.

"Out of… never mind where. You don't want to visit. Look, after the Xindi attack on Earth you've spent your whole life being miserable to those around you, to those you care most about."

"I don't care about anyone," replied Jon as he walked slowly around A.G., eyes narrowed in concentration.

"You care about your dog. Where is Porthos, by the way?" A.G. scanned the room, his eyes falling on the empty dog bed by the desk.

"He's dead - he died a few years back. And you're wrong, I don't care about anyone."

"Right, you were never a good liar. You haven't gotten rid of his bed, you still love your dog, and you're probably still pining after that little cutie you had at one point." A sad smile crossed the ghost's face. "Anyhow, if I hadn't been even busier than you with my career I would have gone after that hottie once you let her go. But I could never be bothered to form any lasting relationships, there were too many things to do, places to explore." Another drink materialized itself in his hand; he took a sip and grimaced, then continued. "So I was miserable, driven, and alone. Now I'm dead, and still miserable and definitely alone. I'm just not working anymore." A.G. paused seeing that Archer still wasn't giving him his full attention. He downed his drink, tossed the glass over his shoulder into thin air, and floated towards Archer eventually passing right through him. Archer shuddered and gasped.

"See, I told you I was a real ghost and all. Didn't feel too good having me floating through you, did it?" he paused watching Archer continue to shudder. A.G. smiled wryly and continued, "Like I was saying, I was sent here to warn you about your mission. You're messing up your life real good and if you don't stop, you'll drop dead of a coronary and end up with me. And as much as I'd love some company, you don't want to spend eternity where I am. It makes that whole episode of falling off the face of that cliff and bouncing all the way down look like a picnic. I wouldn't have fallen and died if I had been climbing with a partner. But I didn't have a climbing partner because I had no friends!" he barked, looking at Archer to gauge the effects of his words. Archer was still busy trying to warm up; having a ghost pass through him had a chilling effect.

"Anyhow, you'll be visited by three spirits tonight and I'd listen to everything they have to say." A.G. faded out briefly and then came back clearly. "Ah, that's my cue to go. It was nice chatting with you Jon. I've missed you. We were friends once, and I think back on that time often. Don't forget to listen to these guys, and," glancing down at Archer's half eaten meal, "don't eat that catfish – resequenced crap. Go out and get yourself some real food and be around some real people. Your other old friend Trip would be disappointed in you," and with that he slowly started to fade and expand, eventually becoming so large and transparent that he faded from the room entirely.

Archer was left standing there, mouth open, still trying to figure out what had happened.


	3. Chapter 3

Admiral Archer wasn't sleeping well that night. After having a stiff drink due to the effects of his other-worldly visit from A.G., Archer climbed into bed, giving up on work as a lost cause. He tossed and turned for quite a while before finally dropping off into a fitful slumber.

The doorbell chimed once, and then again, and again, continuing on, waking him out of a troubled dream. He bolted upright in bed, staring through bleary eyes across the long room towards the door. He rose and tentatively walked towards the door, unsure if he really wanted to answer it at that late hour. While he didn't believe anything he had seen earlier, a part of him knew the universe was too vast to write off the strange evening he had just experienced.

Reaching the door, his hand almost to the button, the door chime stopped. He withdrew his hand with a small sigh of relief and turned back towards the bed. For the second time this evening he was startled. A man was standing in front of the picture windows overlooking the night time skyline of San Francisco. Dressed in a black uniform, his hands behind his back, he stood at parade rest. No, it wasn't a man, it was an alien, Archer realized, just noticing the antennae that bent forward in interest as the alien continued to inspect the view. Without looking over at him the alien said, "Evening Pink Skin."

"Shran? …But what are you… How did you…" Archer trailed off, concerned for his own sanity at this point.

Shran turned from the window and came towards Jon, who was still standing in the middle of his apartment. "Last question first, don't concern yourself with how I got here, you wouldn't understand. What am I?" he smiled wryly at Archer and continued, "an Andorian, last time I checked. And whom did you expect tonight? The… what is that Earth custom? The tooth fairy? Yes. That's it. You got me tonight, Pink Skin, and we're on a schedule so if you'll come over here we can be off," he finished brusquely.

"Go where?" replied Archer warily, not coming any closer.

"Didn't A.G. tell you anything while he was here? Typical pink skin. I've been drafted as the ghost of Christmas Past, and like I said, we're on a schedule," Shran finished and came forward, grasping Archer's bare shoulder.

As Shran touched Archer they both dematerialized as if by transporter. Rematerializing Shran let go of Archer and Jon swung around wildly, trying to figure out where he had been taken.

"You realize this is kidnapping! Starfleet won't stand for it once they find out!" Jon said, panic tingeing his voice, making it unusually loud.

"Don't worry, you'll be home soon enough, after I've shown you what needs to be seen. Look around, where are we?" Shran replied calmly, a smirk of superiority playing across his lips.

Archer looked at his surroundings and recognized them instantly. Wonder in his voice he replied, "We're at my old boarding school in northern California. I haven't been here since I was a boy."

Shran looked around with interest. "Boarding school? Hmm. I attended military schools. They were cold and bleak, this looks rather nice. And it's warm. Let's go inside and see what there is to see." Catching Archer's panicked look he continued, "Don't worry, we can't be seen. Consider this one of those new holo-dramas that are so popular now." Shran waved his hand at the surroundings, his hand actually passing through a nearby tree trunk. "We can walk through it, but the characters are no more than illusions to us." With that he turned and walked through the wall of the nearest building.

Jon looking once more at his bare-footed and chested self then shrugged and walked after Shran steeling himself to hit the wall but feeling nothing as he walked right through it. Coming through the wall he stood next to Shran who was standing in a class room full of boys collecting their things, apparently dismissed for the day.

"Hey Jon!" said a boy by the window.

Archer started in surprise at being addressed and opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by Shran.

"Save your breath Pink Skin. Remember I said they wouldn't be able to see us. This is all just a memory, your memory." Shran folded his arms over his chest and watched the events unfold around him.

Jonathon shut his mouth and turned back to the occupants of the room.

"You leaving for Christmas break this year Jon?" asked the boy who had spoken.

Young Jon Archer stood up from where he had been loading his books into a satchel and didn't meet the other boy's eyes. "Nope. I've got too many things to work on," he replied nonchalantly.

The boy rolled his eyes and turned away, heading for the door. Speaking as if Jon was slow, he said, "Relax Jon, you're always working. Christmas break is just that, a break!" The boy shook his head as he headed out the classroom door. The young Jon turned to watch the other boy go, as he turned back to his desk a look of hurt and longing crossed his face.

Shran turned to look at Archer, who was staring at the scene before him obviously lost in thought.

"Why'd you stay?" Shran asked, breaking into Jon's thoughts.

Jon replied, still staring at the scene before him, "I always had work to do. I wanted to… explore the stars and I knew that only the best would have the chance at piloting the first warp ship."

Shran looked shrewdly at the lonely boy before him. "Was that the only reason you stayed behind?"

Jon, the man, shrugged and turned away as if to inspect the rest of the room, trying for the same nonchalance his younger self attemped to show. "I had no one to go home to see. By this point Mom was dead and Dad was busy with the warp program. I wanted to stay here and study," he said, his voice almost sounding unconcerned, but not quite making it.

"Hmm. Not very convincing, are you?" Shran replied at Jon's back, his antennae turning back in a sign of displeasure. "A.G. mentioned you were a bad liar."

Archer turned abruptly and glared at Shran, his face clouding in anger. "O.K. I had a lousy childhood. Mom died, Dad was beside himself with grief and threw himself into the only thing that gave him relief from his pain, his damn engine. I was sent off to school so that Dad didn't have to surface from his research to deal with reality. He never wanted me to come home. Is that what you wanted to hear?" he snarled, his face flushing.

"That's a start, Pink Skin. I believe the first step to healing is acceptance," Shran replied ever calm. He took Archer's arm and guided him back through the wall. "Let's take a look at a few other scenes from your past and see what other mistakes you can come to accept," and so saying, the scene in front of the faded slowly as if it was melting.

A new scene unfolded around them, as if they were standing inside of an old black and white movie that was being slowly colored in by a giant unseen hand. They found themselves at the back of a lecture hall with an address just finishing up. The professor at the front of the room was closing up his case and finishing his remarks.

Archer gazed around him, his expression clearing into one of happy surprise. "This was old Captain Fezziwig's lecture hall," he said as he started to look around the room.

"Fezziwig? Odd name. But then lots of things about you humans are strange," replied Shran rocking back and forth on his feet.

"You should talk. You're the one with antennae sprouting out the top of your head," Jon said absently, continuing to stare at those before him and not noticing the first real smile Shran had made so far tonight.

Just then the man at the front of the hall cleared his throat and spoke, "That'll be it for the semester. I want you to get this paper done and handed in when we all come back after the holidays, but make sure you take some time off for yourselves too. I'm proud of every one of you. You've all worked hard. In that vein, I expect you to all attend my annual Christmas party tomorrow night being held in the Cochrane Auditorium starting at 1800. You all need to let off some steam and relax. Class dismissed." He turned and walked out the door.

The class rose and started to file out. Shran and Archer continued to stand in the back and watch the students meander, filling the room with laughter and noise trading holiday plans back and forth. Shran suddenly pointed and said, "Ah, there you are. It took me a moment to find you with all that brown hair, I'm accustomed to the grey now."

A small smile played across Archer's lips but his eyes were focused on the scene in front of him.

Cadet Archer was leaving with a small group of young men and women, talking and joking as they waited for the aisle to clear. Shran and Archer approached so that they could listen in on the conversation.

"So are you going to Fezziwig's party tomorrow night Jon?" asked a tall young woman.

"I don't know Erica, I was thinking of getting a jump on this paper he's assigned," replied Jon.

A slightly older man groaned in response and said, "Give it a break Jon, and come with us. It'll be fun! You have two whole weeks to work on that thing and only one chance to enjoy all the free food and drink that Old Fezziwigg puts on. Think of all the scotch we could drink!" he said and nudged Jon playfully.

Cadet Jon chuckled shook his head and said, "I guess you're right AG, we do have two weeks and it'll be a good party." He paused and considered, then continued, "Fine. I'll go. I'll meet you two there at 1800," he finished and picked up his things. Turning, the trio left the room discussing plans leaving Shran and Archer in an empty room.

Shran turned to Archer and said, "It looks like you recovered from boarding school. You used to know how to have some fun. What happened?"

Archer continued to watch the trio as they walked out the door, still laughing and bantering. "I grew up," he stated flatly.

"Hmph," Shran grunted, his antennae turning outward in a sign of annoyance. Taking hold of Archer's arm he turned and walked through the back wall and into a new scene.

Slowly a new scene came into being around them. Starfleet colors hung from banners around the walls of a large auditorium filled with people, all in uniform. Workers bustled here and there clearly setting up for a party. Shran released Jon's arm and looked around.

"So where are we now, Pink Skin?" Shran's antennae swiveled back and forth in a sign of interest as he took in the sight around him.

"We're at one of Fezziwig's Christmas parties. Are we in the same year?" Jon asked Shran as his eyes scanned the room.

"No, we're a few years from the last memory," replied Shran, scrutinizing the room as well. "Have you spotted yourself yet?"

"Not yet – wait, there I am," Jon indicated a man rushing into the room, much younger than the present Admiral Archer, but clearly older than most of the people around him.

The young Jonathon Archer strode through the crowd, intent on the elderly Captain directing the party preparations.

"Excuse me, captain? Can I have a word with you?" said the young Jonathon Archer.

"Lieutenant! What can I help you with?" asked the genial old man.

"I just wanted you to check these figures on the new warp engine. Tucker and I were going to test it later tonight. Since you're at the top of the warp field, I wanted you to take a look at this before we went forward," was his earnest reply.

The older man smiled and patted the younger man's arm. "Jonathon, it's Christmas Eve. Relax. The warp program can wait a day or two. I know for a fact that Mr. Tucker isn't going to be working tonight either as he is over there helping move tables and setting up the dance floor," the captain replied, taking young Jon by the elbow and steering him into the crowd. "In fact," he continued, taking the padd out of the younger man's hands, "you can help my newest pupil, Ensign Sato hang the garlands. She's too short to reach all the hooks," he finished as he stopped in front of a young Asian woman.

"Ms. Sato, let me introduce to you a friend of mine, Lt. Archer. Lt. Archer, Ms. Sato," Captain Fezziwig said, as the young lady looked up from pulling garland out of a box.

Archer's eyes met the young woman's. He felt as if he had been slapped in the back of the head. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small smile, a faint blush stealing over her cheeks.

Fezziwig's eyes twinkled with mirth at the expressions on the younger couple but as he continued on his voice was kind, "Hoshi, Jon's here to help hang the garland, I didn't think you could reach everything. He's a bit of a stick-in-the-mud, so see if you can't convince him to have a good time tonight." A small smile started to cross the old man's face at the blush on her porcelain features.

He turned back to Lt. Archer. "Jon, Hoshi's the brightest student I've ever come across in all these many years I've been teaching here. Play nice, or with her wit, she'll have you for dinner," he playfully warned, winking at Jon and slapping him on the shoulder as he walked off to direct more preparations.

Shran looked at the man standing beside him, his eyes unreadable, and asked, "So this is where you met her?"

The elder Archer stood looking very much like the younger one, stunned. "Yes…" he replied softly, his eyes never leaving the woman's face.

"I always wondered about that," Shran mused, and then shook himself out of his reverie. "Anything else of relevance happen here that night? Dinner, dancing, the start of a beautiful relationship?" Shran asked, his voice acerbic.

"Yes," Jon sighed, his voice sad, "all of that… there we are," he said, indicating the dancing couple. The scene had fast forwarded and they were now standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor. The young Jon had his arms around Hoshi as he led her around the dance floor, soft music swelling and ebbing like waves on the shore. They were chatting amiably, every so often their eyes catching each other's as they scanned the room to avoid other dancing couples. Hoshi was blushing, Jon looked pleased with himself.

Shran took a firm hold of Archer's elbow and steered him back through the crowd.

Archer tried to twist out of Shran's grasp. "Hang on, let's watch the rest of the evening," he said, his voice almost desperate.

"No, sorry, we've still got a few more memories to look at and I've got a schedule to keep," Shran replied indifferently as they walked through the wall once more and into yet another scene.

Another Christmas Eve formed around them, they were standing in a tiny little apartment that held an equally tiny little tree. Curled up on the floor next to the tree were a slightly older Jon and Hoshi chatting and laughing while they presented gifts to each other.

"This one is yours," Hoshi said as she handed Jon a large wrapped parcel.

He smiled and took the box, shaking it and listening for a rattle. "What is it?" he asked his face open and happy.

"Open it up and find out!" she replied coyly.

Jon set it down and started to tear off the wrapping. "It's so light, are you sure you remembered to put in the gift?" he laughed. Hoshi just smiled in response.

"It's a picture," he said, confused, as he drew a small photo out of the box, "of a beagle."

"It is," Hoshi replied, her face breaking out in a grin. "Tomorrow we're going to pick out your new puppy!"

At his still puzzled look she added gently, "I remembered you said how you had always wanted one growing up but your father had repeatedly said no." She placed a hand on his arm.

"That's…" he swallowed hard then continued, "so very sweet of you. No one is as thoughtful as you. I love you," he finished and kissed her on the cheek. He stood up and took a tiny box off of a tree branch where it had been resting. Taking Hoshi's hand he gently pulled her to her feet and handed it to her.

She took off the bow and opened the box to find a diamond ring, it sparkled in the lights of the tree. She looked up to find Jon on one knee in front of her.

The scene faded before them rapidly and melted just as rapidly into another one.

"Hey!" exclaimed Jon.

"What? You know how it ended. She said yes. I am sure you were very eloquent, but we're running out of time and there is one more scene you need to see," replied Shran sounding grim.

The new scene coalesced around them, another office in Starfleet headquarters. The room was stark, an antique map of the stars on one wall, a dog bed in the corner, Porthos curled up watching the room's inhabitants intently, his tail tucked tightly around him, his ears drooping. They had walked into the middle of a fight.

"When then?" the woman, an older Hoshi, asked intently, her voice sharp and pointed.

"Soon, but later. Things with the new federation aren't quite settled yet!" replied the man, an older Archer, coming to his feet, weariness in his voice.

"I left my teaching position and followed you to the stars. I followed you to the Expanse and back! You told me we'd be together once we saved the Earth. That was years ago!" she replied, heat in her words.

"I know," said Jon, coming around the desk and taking her by the hands. "But the timing just isn't right. I can't leave this to anyone else," he said gesturing to the work around him, frustration making his voice sharp.

Hoshi bowed her head, looking at their clasped hands for a long moment. Stepping back she pulled her hands out of his and pulled a chain out from the neck of her uniform. Taking the chain off, she opened it and unthreaded the ring it held. Without looking at him she laid the ring gently on the desk.

"I'm sorry, I just can't do this anymore," she said quietly, still not meeting his gaze.

"But, I still want -," he pleaded.

"No," Hoshi cut him off, "I don't think you do anymore. I think you want this," she indicated the star map, the room, the building, "more then you want me, and I can't be second in your life any longer." She looked up at him, tears in her eyes.

"Good-bye Jon," she said simply and she turned and left the room.

The room fell silent except for a soft whine that came from Porthos; the younger Jon picked up the ring and held it in his closed fist, staring at the star map on the wall, the muscles in his jaw jumping.

"Well, that was painful to watch. I never wanted to ask what happened with you two. Now I know," said Shran with a shrug. "You were an idiot to let her go," he continued as he turned to look at the Jon Archer beside him. There were tears in Archer's eyes as he stared at the door through which Hoshi had departed.

"You're right, I was," Jon replied in a quiet, broken voice.

"What happened next?" Shran asked. "Didn't she marry one of your crew?"

Jon continued to gaze at the younger man in front of him, the muscles of his jaw jumping just as they had earlier in his younger self. "She and Reed ended up together, they had always been good friends and after…," he paused, swallowing hard his focus never leaving the younger man before him, and continued, "it was over between us things just evolved for them. I understand they had three children, a boy and two girls."

"I see," Shran replied. "At least you were spared that entanglement. You obviously had more important work here to be done," his tone sarcastic as he indicated the Spartan room before them. He looked at Archer, searching for something and not seeing it, then shook his head in disgust. "Well, we're done here. I've got to get you back. The next spirit will be coming for you shortly," and saying this he took Archer's elbow once more and steered the other man through the wall and back into his apartment.


End file.
